


everything slowed down; all the colour got a little grey

by soberingmuses



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Episode: s09e12 Hell Bent, i saw it as romantic but to each their own, i spent half my sleep on this, this can be read as a romantic/platonic ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 21:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18432443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soberingmuses/pseuds/soberingmuses
Summary: A look into Clara's thoughts during her final moments.This fic happens post Hell Bent - please watch that first before reading this





	everything slowed down; all the colour got a little grey

**Author's Note:**

> ok so sleeplessness has compelled me to write a fic about clara's death and i have absolutely no explanation for this. it's short, a little bit messy, bc i wrote this out in one sitting. but i hope you like it
> 
> fic title from Usher, Part 3 - Ghost Quartet

The unquiet and velvet blue ocean is all she sees in her field of vision as she gradually grows more conscious of her increasing weightlessness.

Memories flood into her brain unprompted: she sees his silver curls and his electric smile in many of them, the rhythmic thumping of his hearts echoing in her ears. Flashes of adventures long past wash up at the edges of her mind, his hand in hers as they ran and ran and ran from whatever entity they managed to accidentally provoke. Oh, how she had missed the thrill of it; the spontaneous trips to planets with moons set aflame and endlessly multiplying stars, the feel of the ground against her feet as she treaded new soil, the way she threw herself into every dangerous situation possible with reckless abandon.

Including this one.

It had started as a perfectly normal day — they had planned to visit 1960s North America for a less intense adventure; they wanted to simply walk around the Hollywood area together — and all of that was thrown out of the window the moment Rigsy dialed the TARDIS number and asked for their help. 

Years of being in suspended animation has rendered the memory of her ending up on Trap Street in the first place foggy and shapeless — all that really remained was the shard of a memory of a tattoo etched on her neck, now stagnant after being frozen between one heartbeat and the next. Sometimes, while traveling with Me, she would forget she was even trapped in the odd predicament of being undead — only the nagging absence of blood pulsing through her veins would snap her back to reality. 

She steps into the exact spot of her death on the street, and for one last time, she looks back at his form leaning against a nearby building. The look of anguish in his eyes and the terseness of his posture sends a jolt of pain through her chest. She wants so desperately to run to him and hug him one last time; to tell him that he will be alright in the long run, and enjoy the companionship of new travelers aboard the TARDIS, but deep down she knows she’s unable to — and her heart clenches at that thought. Taking a deep breath out of human habit, she nods to the Gallifreyan standing at the glittering doorway, and as she sees the ominous raven in front of her, ready to strike, a sudden calmness washes over her.

She exhales, and her world suddenly jolts awake and into motion, and almost immediately, excruciating pain starts blooming throughout her body, and she feels like someone has placed multiple fireworks in her body and set them alight simultaneously. A strange sensation courses through her whole body as her eyes take in the sight of the ocean before her yet again, painted a restless electric blue. It feels like she would never stop falling; she finds herself unable to control her limbs and the odd feeling of weightlessness stays with her, suspends her thoughts. For a moment, she thinks that she’s dreaming, and she’ll wake up in a warm bed with scattered rays of the morning sunlight illuminating her ceiling. 

She has never felt more alive than at present, and feels a quick rush of amusement as she realises the irony in that sentiment. She distantly hears a scream, but she can’t tell if it’s from her — the sounds around her are muffled, as if her ears were stuffed with cotton wool; her senses are muted, and all she can register is her body falling. She feels lighter now, less anchored to her body, and she feels her breathing finally stop. She vaguely feels her body hit the ground hard, but she feels like she’s observing her own death from a distance, and she can’t feel anything but an undulating peace in her. 

The ocean is all that she sees now, and it feels like she’s sinking deep in it, drowning in it. As her eyelids slowly droop shut, she notices that the ocean is the same hue as the Doctor’s eyes, and she sees his face crumpling up for the briefest of moments, his arms holding her. She wonders if she’s hallucinating, but she can’t find it in her to bother finding out. As she senses her soul drifting away, an image of his smiling face materialises and imprints itself in her mind, his blue eyes lit up with amusement and excitement.

And she decides that this fleeting moment standing between her life and her death is a blessing; getting to choose the last thing to go through her head, she thinks, is the last sliver of freedom she’ll get. She recalls his unadulterated grin again, and inwardly smiles as she lets death envelope her.

**Author's Note:**

> if you read to the end THANK YOU please leave a kudos or comment <3 they would be highly appreciated
> 
> if you spotted the gq reference ... thank u
> 
> if you like, come yell at me on tumblr @ soberingmuses


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